take me away
by mystiques
Summary: "take me away," she whispers, laughing softly, "from this dreadful world." / or, the story of olivia ryan and how the wind takes her away. / for everyone who's been bullied—whether in real life, online, or both. —olivia-centric, au & ooc


for everyone who's been bullied—whether in real life, online, or both.

* * *

Olivia Ryan always wonders why she's bullied so much—why she's constantly called a slut, a whore—and other things Olivia can't imagine to say. She supposes it has to do with her looks—after all, Olivia _i__s_ part of the Twenty, and she does have a perfect nose!

But these insults ring in her head, over and over again, taunting her and haunting her as she steps from place to place, and she wonders how she could have missed all of these in her school career. And to this day, the words have not gotten old. It's like the world will never change.

_Slut. Whore. Cheater. Stupid. Dumb. Never going to graduate from high school. Idiot. Fugly slut. Bitch. _

Olivia tears at the memory, and she remembers every single insult that has ever been shouted out to her—after all, you see, the memories that stick the closest to you are the ones that you hate to recall. Olivia can just picture each and every one of those phrases coming out of her classmates' mouths, and she frowns as she thinks whether or not any of those are true.

.

_Slut— _

Since when was Olivia a slut? She doesn't remember kissing many boys—and she doesn't remember making out with any of them—except for maybe Plovert and Kemp and Cam and Derrick and Josh and—oh gosh, that's a lot, isn't it? Olivia gasps as she realizes that it is, indeed, true.

_Whore— _

Olivia doesn't remember being a whore—or a prostitute, in that matter. Olivia frowns as she thinks upon this matter, and she remembers that one day in ninth grade—when she was in need of money—and she had agreed to let Griffin ( the emo kid ) make out with her if he paid her five hundred bucks. Olivia cringes at the thought—she was quite silly then, and anyway—why do that with someone you don't like, just for a measly five hundred dollars? Your body, and pride, is worth billions. Trillions, even. _Check. _Two insults were correct.

_Cheater— _

This one Olivia doesn't have to think about at all—her brain is really getting tired, and she doesn't want to think anymore—she knows she's cheated on plenty of homework assignments, tests, quizzes, and—you get it, don't you? The memories come rushing back to Olivia, and she smiles grimly as the thoughts collide in her head, fresh and clear as crystal. _Three down, five to go._

_Stupid— _

This was one that Olivia remembers a lot—it seems to be a common thing people say to her, and Olivia wonders if it's because they're jealous of her looks. She shrugs the thought off, and she knows she's stupid, of course—but it kind of hurts her when her friends call her that, you know?

For some reason, Olivia sobs when she thinks of this—she's eighteen now—and she just doesn't know why she hasn't thought of this before—but why isn't she like Massie? Like Alicia? Like Kristen? Like any of the other girls her age? Why is she...herself? Why is she so imperfect, so full of flaws—and why are all these offending insults _true_?

She has always hoped for people to say something positive about her—but Olivia nods grimly as she recognizes that this will never happen—hope breeds eternal misery, you know.

But then, the other kids at her school don't _know_ that Olivia has suffered a car accident—it's not something she likes to bring up—and that her brain was damaged. They don't know that she is dyslexic. They don't have any fucking idea that she has ADHD. No, they don't know anything, but they still have the nerve to be so rude and make fun of her for—entertainment.

.

**[don't you know, sweetie? even dumb people have smart moments at times.]**

.

Olivia stares at her reflection in the mirror, and she smiles softly as she runs her finger along the mirror's edge.

"I'm hopeless," she whimpers, "but I'm still hopeful."

And she smiles again, and she throws the window open—forcing her head through it is somehow easy—and she whispers, "take me away," as she hopes for the wind to whisk her words away.

Olivia twirls her silky blonde locks, and she turns and looks out into the dark night again—she stares right at the moon, and she laughs softly—she loves the moon, the stars—the moonlit night. She waves lightly at the sky, not caring that it looks entirely stupid.

After all, she has nothing to lose.

.

Olivia twitches in her dreams—she tosses and turns—and the nightmares keep coming, night by night. Kristen's phlegmy laugh echoing in her mind—Alicia's soft tinkling laughter drifting into her ears—and even Kori's loud guffaws find their way into Olivia's dreams, and her rest isn't exactly resting.

It's more like torture. It's torture to know that your friends—your loved ones—hate you. Or you think they hate you, but it's the same thing, because you don't actually speak to them about it—you have to pretend everything is alright.

.

"I'm Olivia Ryan, and I like peaches," Olivia whispers in her sleep. "I'm eighteen and I live in Westchester."

She wakes up in the middle of the night, and it's as if she's been completely possessed by someone who is not her—it's like the devil, or the angel has taken control of her. Olivia skips out the house, giggling and it's as if her feet have a mind of their own, and they rush to a secluded mountainside, taking Olivia with them.

Olivia can hear the wind gushing in her ears, and she can see the world beneath her—the beautiful creek, accented in the darkness, the lush green trees—the world is just so big. It's not like the world is going to miss her, right? Olivia smiles contentedly, and a tear falls onto her cheeks, forming a salty river on her face.

"Take me away," she whispers, laughing softly, "from this dreadful world."

.

**[who knows? even the most naive people in the world want a way to escape.] **

.

And she jumps. She notices how it's like a dive into a swimming pool, and she giggles. She enjoys swimming, and just as she thinks this, she plummets, face first, into the water. Before Olivia can let out her blood-curdling scream, she's silenced forever by the cold murky water of the creek.

* * *

**notes l **bullying isn't a fun thing. no one likes it, and olivia seemed like the perfect character—she seemed like one who would be bullied a lot, and someone who would crack under the pressure. and anyway, don't judge a book by its cover. just because olivia is an airhead doesn't mean she doesn't have a brain. so next time you say something, think about it and whether or not it will hurt the person you say it to. many people have committed suicide, and it's no joke. i know that now, and really, think about what you say. your actions and words can cause someone's death—by _will_.

if you hated this story, i don't care. this is for people who have been bullied constantly.

you can live through this. there is hope. [let us ignore spencer's quote] you have no idea how many people love you.


End file.
